Where to begin with this week's Trash? Probably at the beginning. Sadly, despite the hopes and wishes of all in attendance, we did not find ourselves back on the Ben Franklin Yacht or any boat for that matter. Most of those in attendance did, however, have to traverse the Schuykill to arrive at Cavanaugh's U City but, in typical lazy hasher fashion, they took the Turkey Split by using planes, trains, and automobiles. For shame. At least they all arrived on time. Sort of.

So much of trail felt like we were living in some kind of bizarro world:

At Chalk Talk, our seasoned RA Fort Dixalot forgot to introduce our virgins and visitors until after all the marks were explained (I'm guessing someone reminded him before we On-Outed).

Immediately following that flub, almost the ENTIRE pack ran in the opposite direction of the true trail arrow laid in chalk talk for at least two blocks despite the other half-minds' protests only to learn that the arrow was in fact indicating true trail.

Cut to three blocks later as we're hashing through UPenn's campus and a Muggle screams out, "Who are you?!" to the pack. I and several others were stunned and almost stopped in our tracks as we're so used to being asked "What are you running for?" I nearly replied to his jarring inquiry with "Beer!" out of habit but caught myself in time.

Later, I perked up at what sounded like the reappearance of the Hash Horn on trail because a) the pack and all of their orifices have missed it so and d) it would've meant that Ass Ass In Nation joined the pack. Nay, it was not to be as it twas just a SEPTA trolley proudly declaring its...trolleyness, I guess?

Taco? I Barely Know Her​ cameoed at pre-lube but only to return Fort Dixalot's camera gear to him; I don't recall seeing tacos on Cavanaugh's menu so I suspect he left in search of them.

Lastly, Sex Toys for Tots and Silence of the Goats brought the #700 hab bags but forgot the toe tags but that's okay because it means that the fond memories of that wonderful night will carry on to #702 (but not #703, we hope).

Now, I'd like to take some time to highlight the Trash valedictorian of #701: Just Anthony. He started off strong by making a virgin, Just Jamel, cum and just kept ramping up the acceptable hash behavior from there. He found the SN scarily fast as if with near pre-cognitive skill considering how well hidden it was under that train station's ramp (red and blue Powerades mixed with vodka(?), which Orgie Porgie Puddin' n' Pie was all to eager to drink as she held out for a blue shot before finishing her red one). Later, once the pack reached the BN, he expressed his joy at the boozy hydration formation on such a humid night by extolling, "It's so good when it touches my dick!" So, for future reference, maybe don't accept a beer from him? Lastly, his crowning achievement came back at the SN when he excitedly pointed out to all nearby not only the lady hobo by a tree taking a shit but also the two male hobos on the other side of the track apparently circle jerking each other off.

Speaking of Circle, the #701 Trash salutatorian easily goes to the Cavanaugh's ladies' restroom bathroom attendant, Mary, who initially watched our shenanigans commence from her chair inside the women's restroom through its open door (which, for the record, several of us asked her multiple times if it could be closed as it was super awkward but were denied). Next thing we know, Mary is right next to us witnessing in mostly rapt silence but she did share that she "had a [bar] tab named after [her]' at Cavanaugh's and even offered a suggestion or two for OPPP's renaming.

That's right, OPPP was renamed because of...reasons. After many embarrassing questions, fascinating answers, and mediocre-to-great name suggestions, all of which occurred in front of some weird, impromptu judges table of Pantyphile, Judge Doody, Blink 5'2", and Just Ryan, OPPPwas reborn as On Her Cycle thanks to her propensity for treating bike paths like Vegas off-Strip Super 8 motels.

Some final notes I'm too lazy to work into this annal:

60k9, Just Heidi, and me sussing out the mechanics of an Unsullied circle jerk session on "Game of Thrones" (they're all castrated warriors if you didn't know) and deciding that it would likely just be a game of sensual Ro-Sham-Bo.

At BN, Just Elvis and Slothy Seconds were about to On-Out but up walks Where's Mi d?​ to ask, "Oooooh, are you the hares? What's this you have here?" and immediately jams her hand in the flour bag. She was disgusted when it came out covered in flour. I guess she thought it was ice?

While we're on Just Elvis, he arrived in the basement of Cavanaugh's for Circle with a single hot wing in his mouth. When asked where he got it, he replied, "You don't want to know what I did to earn this."

Other mystery food at Circle included a chicken salad delivered by the bar staff to apparently no one as it sat on a table for awhile before Blink 5' 2" exclaimed that someone needs to "toss that salad!"

Going back to Where's Mi d?, can anyone explain what that hippopotamus shit Just Cline and her were talking about means? Something about sexualizing hippos, I think? Which did lead to a great retort by Post Traumatic Goose Disorder: "You just described my college."

And with that, may the Hash go in peace! (May the Hash get a piece!)On-On!​-Baaa! Ram Him